With this part of the viewing or enlightening process over, we then went over the part where both groups tried to fight against the undead.
Obviously, the first week plus change was the time when everyone was doing all they could, going out as much as possible and using whatever means to even out the population between the dead and the living, but even though both groups' paths were crooked, they can't seem to have a single moment where they fought side by side.
Take note, it wasn't like they were avoiding each other, for some reason, in the months that came after this place's collapse, they were like junior partners in a firm who worked in separate cubicles who only discovered they worked in the same place in the year-end party.
It was off the absurdity chart but even so, there were a handful of chances where they could've done so, but it was at those times when the other side had lost people, facing something hard other than the undead, or their feelings for the other group was that bad, they refused to offer help due to resentment.
But as mentioned earlier, this group upstairs had more firepower to go around while this group of mostly adults had the manpower.
I did mention that both groups had gear but the quality and the quantity greatly differed.
Agnes and Robert's group—before Dax and Sheepy merc'd them—had four assault rifles, three shotguns, a dozen pistols, and a few hundred rounds to go around with assorted melee weapons while George's group only had a Remington 870, a couple of 1911s, a handful of fire axes, and the rest were makeshift weapons taken from the shelves.
I still mentioned Agnes and Robert's names but they only lasted a few days because almost everyone was pissed at them, even the leftover soldiers—but Dax and Shepard handled them too because their influence over them wasn't as good compared to their pawns.
Because yeah, I believed that anyone, I mean ANYONE would've grown a spine a week or even a month into the apocalypse—and yeah, I do have people that wouldn't survive a day out there—but god fucking dammit, there should've been at least one of them that could act as a leader or a murdering bastard to save themselves.
But then again, as much as I would hate to say it, their methods also worked and they survived but imagine... imagine what they could've done if they put on a little bit more effort while the kids toned it down a little bit more.
I was always the advocate of balance but yeah, these two groups were just at the opposite ends of the spectrum.
So yeah, how about that?
In short, I have my own way to handle things and they have their own way to handle their shit as well. Granted they were suboptimal in my eyes, but maybe, it could be all that they could've done at the moment, or they couldn't see the proper way or even act upon it.
I wasn't telling them how to live their lives because to each their own, as they've said, but if it's life or death, the way they do things was all sorts of wrong in my book.
Even now, I have thought of different ways to overcome each path and the challenges each of them faced throughout the day if I were in their shoes, but yeah, now wasn't the time to gloat or show off my skills in front of these new people.
What I wanted to do now was to let them rest and recover and figure out a way to make them learn the optimal way to do shit—or play to their strengths—and how to increase their chances of living with an actual safe haven watching over them.
But yeah, these people might still be at odds despite the sad revelation but one quick way—and kind of a cheat—to bridge the gap between them was always through food.